


Death by Chocolate and Kisses

by Lizardlicks



Category: Homestuck
Genre: A mountain of blankets, F/F, Holidays, Hot Chocolate, Winter, Xeno
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-20
Updated: 2015-12-20
Packaged: 2018-05-08 00:01:09
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,408
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5475443
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lizardlicks/pseuds/Lizardlicks
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Kanaya grew up in a desert on a hell planet.  She is not prepared for winter in New York, Earth.  Rose tries to help.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Death by Chocolate and Kisses

You liked summer.  Summer on the humans’ planet was nice.  It reminded you of home, of safety and comfort.  You grew up in the biting, shifting embrace of a desert, surrounded by light, and the love of your lusus.  The earth’s sun, while not as harsh as your own, was warming, filling you up with its steady glow, and nostalgia, and a sense of belonging in a foreign world.  You had tipped back your head and smiled at the sky while you drank deeply of its invigorating beams.  You also drank deeply the sight of Rose’s shapely hips perfectly snuggled in a skin-tight bathing suit.

And of the taste of popsicles and lemonade on her lips...

And of...

Ahem!  Yes.  Yup.  Summer was great.  You liked summer.

It is not currently summer.  The sun is nowhere to be seen.  It’s been hidden behind walls of threateningly gray, and fluffy clouds which spill forth crystallized water vapor in a white, endless haze.  Rose has assured you that the current state of climate is perfectly ordinary for the current time of year in your latitude, her dwelling being located quite a bit northward in this hemisphere.  She has also assured you that this will end eventually, but that’s hard to fathom when everything is bleak monochrome and coldness.  

Feferi and Eridan are apparently enjoying weather of a much more tropical nature on Jade’s island.  You are not jealous.  However, were they to contract a mild but unpleasant case of marine ick over the next few weeks, you would consider it a fair karmic rebalancing.

To sum up your current condition as briefly and succinctly as possible: You’re Fucking Freezing.

Your current measures against the inclement conditions are as follows: Two knitted throws (and Rose is in the process of a third), one Polar fleece character print blanket featuring creatures from a long canceled human adolescent TV series, The Squiddles (thank you, Jade), one carefully, if not exactly expertly constructed quilt (Dirk’s doing, and you’ve never been happier that you agreed to lend extra fabric for someone’s beginner project as you are right in this moment), one over large, honkbeast feather stuffed comforter, and a myriad of your sewing scraps.  In spite of all this, you still feel a chill race up your spine whenever you risk peeking out of your snuggleplain mountain to look for signs of change.

Objectively speaking, you can admit that landscape is beautiful.  The beauty is the kind that’s completely alien and terrifying.  In a way, it reminds you of your Rose.  She likes to play the cold, and clinical analytic on the surface, but underneath it’s all soft and molten warm.  Like the sunlight you miss so dearly.  That might be why she stares out the large picture windows and makes happy little sighs at the outside world quite often these days.  Or maybe it’s because John and Roxy seem inexplicably drawn to covering themselves in thermal retaining layers just so they can go out into the fluffy, white death and hurl it at each other.  She could be merely masking irritation with fondness.  You certainly would be.

Speaking of Rose, those are her footsteps crossing the floor of your room.  You’ve gotten very good at recognizing them.  She nudges you gently through the layers of your fortress.

“Kanaya, are you ever going to come out and join us for dinner?”

“Is the sun going to come out?”

“Eventually, yes.”

“Well then, you have your answer.”

Another sigh, and this one is definitely tinged with exasperation. “Winter is going to last for a few months you realize.”

A whine escapes you.  Months.  Months!  That’s comparable to Alternian perigees!  That is a long and dreadful time to go without ever seeing so much as a drop of solar radiation.  

“Are you honestly planing to spend all winter in this... what is it, a cocoon?” she continues to press.

“Yes Rose, it’s a cocoon,” you deadpan.  “I’m undergoing my final metamorphosis.  Will you still love me the same when I am a hideous flutterbug monstrosity?”

She makes a considering noise.  “Well, I may have to scrap your new sweater.  I’m sure I can adjust a pattern for size double quadruple XL with a few added sleeves.” You can feel her weight shifting against your pile as she sits and leans against it.

“A shame though,” she adds, “I’m going to have to drink all this hot cocoa by myself.”

“What is hot cocoa?”  You’re sure that was meant as some kind of bribe, but you honestly haven’t a clue what she’s talking about.  A corner of your pile lifts, and she carefully slides a thick, ceramic drink vessel into your space.  It’s filled with something steaming, and smells cloyingly sweet.  Little, puffy, white pillowbits bob happily in muddy brown liquid.  You consider the item and its contents with suspicion.

“I thought you might like something to help warm you up,” Rose explains.  Strange as the liquid is, how can you reject such a heartfelt offer?  Well, it couldn’t hurt to taste at least.  You curl your fingers around the cup, enjoying the way the warmth burrows down into your joints, and cautiously bring it to your lips.

It’s not quite what you were expecting.  Sweet is only the surface flavor.  There’s something about it you can only describe as dark, with an edge of bitterness, and on the tail of your sip you taste something sharp, somehow creating both hot and cold sensations across your tongue.  You might have made a sound of surprise.  It stays warm all the way down, and settles in your belly with radiating heat.  You chase it with a second sip, then a third.  Rose chuckles.

“Do you like it?  I put crushed peppermints in it.”

“I have no idea what that is, but this is delightful.”  You get one of those white puffs on your tongue and it dissolves in a crackle-squish.  They’re tiny and porous, all saturated with the drink, but still retaining their own delightful texture.  It reminds you of candied ripperwasp larva, and you chirp in delight.  Not quite the same, but if you close your eyes and tuck them up against your cheek, it could almost...

“Do you think you might want to come out now?”  She’s not pressuring, she only sounds... hopeful.  And you _miss_ Rose.  She’s been right here, everyday, doing her normal Rose thing, and yet you dearly, viscerally miss her because you’ve fortified yourself in a blanket bunker for weeks now.  How she must feel as well, you being with her but not.  Like some shriveled wraith haunting her manor.

Still you pause.  Hesitate.  Consider.

“I think...” you begin, then cautiously lift the cloth walls to reveal Rose’s sweet face.  She’s curled over in a ball, resting her cheek on her knees, and giving you a patient look.  It might be the sugar going to your head, but suddenly you are warm all over, and the feeling is not unwelcome.  “I think I may have a better idea.”

“Oh?  Oh!”  She squeaks when you grasp her by her blouse and pull her into your arms.   Miraculously, you don’t even upset the hot cocoa, and now you’re wrapped around the tiny furnace of your soft, human matesprit.  She’s laughing too, and in the quiet closeness of your sanctuary it’s like bells ringing.  You both squirm, roll, and kick, arranging the blankets back into place, and yourselves around each other, and by the end of it she’s on top of you, pressing you down with her hands, and hips, and lips, and rumblespheres.  She tastes like the cocoa; dark warm, cold bright, and there’s lightning behind your eyes.  Oh, that’s because you’re glowing.  Oops.

Rose is still laughing, but it‘s quieted to muffled giggles. “This is an acceptable compromise, well done.”

“I am glad we could come to an agreement.  Blanket fort good.  Cold outside bad.”

“You do realize, I’ll need to leave at some point to find food and use the bathroom.”

Your only answer is to hug her more tightly and whine.  She chuffs in your ear.

“Maybe I can call up Dave and see what he and Dirk are doing for their holidays in Texas.”

“Rose,” you intone very seriously as you cup her cheeks with both hands, “Rose my dearest.  I love you.  You are the best matesprit ever.”

“I know,” she laughs, then kisses your nose.  “I love you, too.”

**Author's Note:**

> _When we finally kiss goodnight_   
>  _How I’ll hate going out in the storm_   
>  _But if you’ll really hold me tight_   
>  _All the way home I’ll be warm_
> 
> _The fire is slowly dying_   
>  _And my dear, we’re still goodbying_   
>  _As long as you love me so_   
>  _Let it snow, let it snow, let it snow_
> 
> Happy holidays!


End file.
